


Sentimentality

by needsmoreyellow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/needsmoreyellow/pseuds/needsmoreyellow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean is irrationally upset about a broken chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentimentality

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt "write about the broken chair". [[x]](http://staringout.livejournal.com/259503.html)
> 
> Tumblr post [here.](http://needsmoreyellow.tumblr.com/post/75556848484/write-about-the-broken-chair-x-it-was-the)

It was the stupidest fucking thing to be upset about, and that was saying something. Dean came packed with a very, very long history of being upset over Things, and if this was one the stupidest out of every other incident in his entire life, it was definitely saying _something._ He wasn’t exactly sure what it was saying.

The chair was broken. He broke the fucking chair. It was saying that.

He broke the chair in the dining room that was one of _two_ chairs, which made them a pair of chairs. A pair of chairs that he bought at a second-hand store with a matching antique table that he would definitely never be able to find anywhere else, and he _broke_ the chair.

He could have easily broken his leg considering the fall that took place for said chair to break, but who cares about broken legs when the leg of the chair has splintered and cracked and said crack has traveled all the way into the seat of the chair in a way that would be very difficult to actually fix properly.

_And_ none of this would even matter if this hadn’t been the first thing him and Cas had actually bought for their real house, because proper beds and couches be damned, Dean wanted them to eat an actual dinner with a real table and maybe some candles, and their first piece of family history was ingrained in this dining set.

Of course, all of this panic was being very properly internalized, and when Cas actually walked into the room to see what caused the crash, all he found was Dean with his arms crossed, frowning and glaring at the broken splinters of wood on the kitchen floor.

“...Are you alright?”

“Mmm.”

Dean couldn’t tell if Cas cared as much as Dean did, but he seemed relieved that Dean wasn’t bleeding and stepped over the mess like nothing to give him a kiss, which is something Dean can never resist no matter what’s on his mind.

But Dean’s enthusiasm wasn’t up to par, and Cas stopped right there, pressed close with their lips together, and murmured, “You _are_ hurt.”

“I broke the chair.”

And he watches as Cas blinks and pulls back to make sure, as though he actually hadn’t noticed upon walking in the room. “...Yes.”

“I can’t fix it.”

“It does look rather destroyed.”

And Dean sighs and Cas looks even more confused, which is just enough to make Dean’s heart warmer because a confused Cas is a very cute Cas, regardless of whether he wants to admit it or not.

“I don’t remember it being very expensive; we can go out tomorrow and find another.” He turns to look back at Dean and taps his fingers against his chest, because Dean’s never worried about expenses, and suddenly a stupid, stupid smile spreads across his face. “You’re being sentimental, aren’t you?”

The cold metal of the useless charm his brother got him when they were kids feels suddenly colder on his chest, and Dean swallows. So maybe he’s sentimental. Maybe a little.

“It had good memories.”

“It’s a chair, Dean.”

“ _Well_ ,“ He makes a vague hand gesture at it. His heart’s slowed down, his worry and anxiety disappearing and being hastily replaced with embarrassment. “It was our _first chair.”_

“And we’ll find a suitable replacement to be our second chair.”

Dean huffs like a child. “Remember how I made dinner and then we _-“_

Cas laughs, and it’s not even a subtle laugh, he isn’t trying to pretend it’s something it’s not, he looks at Dean and he laughs right _at him_ and kisses him like he’s giddy, over and over and _over_ like an idiot until Dean smiles. “ _Yes,_ and I will remember that night regardless of the piece of furniture next to the table.”

But Dean doesn’t want to lose this – whatever this is – and it doesn’t seem to be going his way, so he tries again; stares at the wood on the floor and lowers his voice. “It won’t match anymore.”

Cas kisses him some more, over and over until Dean’s arm snakes around his waist. He’s laughing and maybe Dean is too.

“It’s not funny.”

“ _Yes_ -“

“No, it’s not, you’re _horrible_ and we shouldn’t be laughing-“

Cas lets out the most dramatic gasp when he pulls away to look at the other chair and back to Dean. “ _I’m_ horrible? _You’re a murderer!_ ”

“ _What?_ ”

He pulls away from Dean completely to stroke the back of the in-tact chair with what looks to be genuine sympathy; murmurs “I’m so sorry for your loss,” while Dean’s knees buckle and his head falls back so he can laugh.

“Okay, _okay, idiot_ \- ha ha, Dean’s stupid, wow, get _back_ here-“

And maybe they don’t actually buy a new chair. Maybe Cas is just a tiny bit sentimental too and thinks it would be funny to do a project together like they’re children and to glue and nail the chair back together in the most painfully grotesque way possible and then top it all off by painting the wood blue with paint that Dean tells him isn’t _meant_ for wood, but since when does Cas ever listen?

It looks absolutely awful in their kitchen and matches absolutely nothing and there’s something sharp poking Dean’s ass when he sits down and the pain only becomes ten times worse when Cas moves easily to straddle him.

“Are you absolutely sure this thing can support our weight? Because I really don’t think it can-“

Cas kisses him and Dean hums. “I absolutely hate you.”

Cas smiles and kisses him again and Dean grunts. “You love me.”

And maybe – _maybe_ – Dean does.


End file.
